Ramallah Government Hospital... Thank You

During two heavy months of almost daily accompaniment for my brother and lifelong friend, the late poet and writer Majid Abu Ghosh "the mayor," at Ramallah Government Hospital, I not only witnessed the pain of illness but also saw another face of life: a face that works silently, resists exhaustion, and insists on fulfilling duties despite everything. There, among the corridors and waiting rooms, I learned that respect is not a matter of taste, but a therapeutic necessity.

Doctors, nurses, administrative staff, and janitors bear a burden that exceeds their capacity. Enormous pressure, a lack of resources, long working hours, and harsh humanitarian cases pass before them daily. Yet, they continue to work with a clear conscience, as if every patient were a member of their family. This dedication deserves public acknowledgment, not fleeting compliments.

However, the painful truth is that this great effort is sometimes drained due to unwarranted behaviors from certain visitors and patient companions. Many enter the hospital as if they carry a medical degree in their pockets, issuing fatwas, diagnosing, objecting, and doubting the doctors' decisions, without knowledge, awareness, or understanding of the sensitivity of the medical moment.
No companion has the right to turn into a doctor, nor does any visitor have the right to impose their opinion on the medical staff. Medicine is a science, and the responsibility in it is both ethical and legal; it is not a field for experimentation, display, or venting anxiety loudly. When the unqualified intervene, they not only confuse the medical team but also threaten the safety of the patient themselves.

Doctors do not work against patients, but for them. Nurses are not adversaries but partners in saving lives. Medical instructions and visit regulations are not complications or arrogance but procedures to protect everyone. Respecting these instructions is not an option but an ethical and humanitarian duty.

It is also unfortunate to see those who insist on smoking in the hospital courtyards, littering, raising their voices, or excessively gathering inside rooms. The hospital is a fragile place, with weak patients, critical cases, and people seeking a moment of calm to resist pain. Chaos here is not freedom but direct harm.

Respect is not measured by loud voices or by the number of objections, but by commitment, patience, and trust in the specialists. When we respect time, turns, and instructions, we alleviate the pressure on the medical teams and effectively contribute to improving the quality of service even under limited resources.

True gratitude to the workers at Ramallah Government Hospital is not just in words, but in protecting them from daily exhaustion and supporting them against unwarranted stress. These are humans who get tired, make mistakes sometimes, but work under harsh conditions with limited resources, and they do not deserve to be met with doubt or aggression.

In moments of illness, we are all vulnerable. What we need is not a chaos of opinions but clarity of decision, respect for the system, and mutual trust. When respect becomes part of treatment, we have taken a real step towards higher humanity and a healthcare system that offers dignity to all of us.

In conclusion, one must offer a genuine moment of respect for Ramallah Government Hospital, this place that never sleeps, and which daily bears more than its capacity with rare patience and high humanity. Thank you to everyone who works there, to every hand that heals, every vigilant eye, and every heart that still believes that serving humanity is a mission before being a job. Thank you for being present in the toughest moments and for not turning your backs on pain, despite the harsh reality and limited resources.

This gratitude and pride extend to all government hospitals in Palestine, from north to south, where thousands of unknown soldiers work in exceptional circumstances and under pressure only those who have lived the experience closely can see. You are the backbone of a healthcare system that withstands despite everything and preserves the dignity of the Palestinian human in their weakest moments.

Respect for you is not a favor but a right. Commitment to your instructions is not an imposition, but a shared responsibility in saving lives. So, our thanks to you, and our responsibility is to be partners in the system, not a burden on it, understanding that humanity starts with respecting those who protect life every day, silently.